


Love and CCTV

by BubbleGumLizard



Series: Mystrade NaNoWriMo 2015 [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, NaNoWriMo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-01
Updated: 2015-11-01
Packaged: 2018-04-29 08:41:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5121956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BubbleGumLizard/pseuds/BubbleGumLizard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is the first story for NaNoWriMo 2015.  It's just a bit of fluff to get started.  I stayed up until midnight to write it (I'm normally waking up at this time and I haven't gone to bed yet) and I'm so tired that my eyes keep going out of focus.  I love November.  :-)  Enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote>





	Love and CCTV

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first story for NaNoWriMo 2015. It's just a bit of fluff to get started. I stayed up until midnight to write it (I'm normally waking up at this time and I haven't gone to bed yet) and I'm so tired that my eyes keep going out of focus. I love November. :-) Enjoy!

Mycroft looked at his watch, groaning at how late it had grown. He stretched his legs out, looked in his teacup to ensure that it was empty, and stared blankly at his computer, wondering what he should do. He had a lull in his work, and he knew that he should get out of the office before something else to do found him, but there was something else that he wanted to do: for the past several months, Mycroft had been watching a particular person on London’s CCTV cameras. It was a terrible misuse of his power, and he knew that he should stop, but he couldn’t help himself.

He knew that Lestrade would be at a crime scene, because he had been informed of the incident by one of his assistants. He casually asked who had called in and had been informed that his favorite detective inspector was responsible. He suspected that Sherlock might become involved: it seemed like a tricky case. No doubt it was the next door neighbor, but it might take other people longer to work it out.

He sighed and began typing rapidly, pulling up the CCTV cameras that he knew were most likely to show him Detective Inspector Gregory Lestrade. He found him and zoomed in as far as he could while keeping the quality decent. He rested his cheek on his hand and leaned forward, watching him intently.

He wasn’t quite sure when this obsession had started. He had never actually met the man. Sherlock had been working with him for about a year, and had seemed to finally kick the drug habit. The fact that Lestrade had managed to get Sherlock off of drugs was reason enough to love him. He had continued to work with Sherlock, setting him up with lab privileges at Bart’s and occasionally allowing him to help on a crime scene. Mycroft had briefly considered kidnapping the man to offer him a reward for spying, but when he did his first surveillance, he was so attracted to the man that he didn’t want to embarrass himself by meeting face to face. He always had the upper hand in conversations, so starting something with someone he so clearly wanted could only cause trouble. Before he knew it, he was regularly checking CCTVs for Lestrade when he had an idea where the other man would be. He had managed to hide this new hobby from everyone but Anthea, who knew all of his darkest secrets. Every so often she would drop a new picture of Lestrade on his desk, without comment or judgment, usually in the middle of a particularly trying day.

Mycroft watched as Lestrade took his phone out of his pocket, hesitated, and then dialed a number off of a card that he had pulled out of his pocket. Mycroft jumped as his phone rang on the desk and answered it.

“Mycroft Holmes,” he said stiffly.

“Yes! Mister Holmes. I apologize for ringing so late, but Sherlock told me to call if I needed something, no matter the time. I thought you may want to kn—”

“Pardon me, but to whom am I speaking?”

“Oh!” Greg looked a bit startled on the screen and Mycroft smiled, glad he was able to momentarily fluster him. “This is Detective Inspector Lestrade. Your brother Sherlock helps sometimes on cases. In fact, he’s helping me on one right now. Or was. You see, I seem to have misplaced him.”

“You misplaced my brother? That seems rather careless. Did you check in the couch cushions? I’m always losing things down there.” Mycroft held his breath, worried about his attempt at a joke, but he was rewarded with gruff laughter from the other end of the phone line. “I am sure that Sherlock will turn up, Detective Inspector. He usually does.”

“Well, that’s the thing. I know that he is always running off and coming back, but I think this time is different.”

“Different how?” Mycroft asked, his voice become sharp.

“There’s was a phone call.”

“A phone call?”

“A ransom call.”

“What?!” Mycroft asked, hitting the buzzer for the assistant who was at the desk outside his office. “I should have been informed of this.”

“Well, that’s why I’m calling…”

“No, my assistants have orders to monitor Sherlock’s communications and report back on anything strange. They should have caught this.”

“So…your assistants see everything that goes through Sherlock’s cell?”

“Yes.”

“Interesting.” Mycroft wondered what Lestrade meant by that, then realized that he was getting distracted.

“I apologize, Detective Inspector, but I need to take care of this situation. Do not worry about my brother, I will get him back for us.”

“I always worry about your brother.”

“Thank you for that,” Mycroft said, smiling. Lestrade did seem to take excellent care of Sherlock. “I will inform you when Sherlock is safe and sound at home.” Mycroft hung up the phone without waiting for Lestrade to say goodbye, wanting to be a little rude.

He certainly didn’t want Sherlock to find out the Mycroft was being nice to someone. That was sure to give away his secret. As it was, Mycroft was one of the few people who Sherlock could not immediately read. Given Sherlock’s propensity for blurting out embarrassing secrets, Mycroft wanted to hide this as long as possible.

Mycroft’s soon-to-be ex-assistant finally came into the room and he narrowed his eyes, preparing to use his silky smooth, ultra-threatening voice to ask why he hadn’t been informed about his brother’s abduction.

It ended up being a late night for Mycroft. It took several hours to locate Sherlock and retrieve him and then another few hours to interrogate those responsible. It turned out to be a pretty boring situation, which Mycroft put out of his head as soon as it was over. Of course, Sherlock was being melodramatic, so Mycroft had to dutifully listen to him for nearly an hour. By the time he crawled into bed, he only had two hours before he needed to awaken for his morning meetings. It wasn’t the smallest amount of sleep he’d ever had, but it was well below average.

The last thing he did before falling asleep was go over his conversation with Lestrade in his mind. It was the first time they had ever spoken and it went as well as Mycroft had ever hoped. He didn’t know if he would ever speak with Lestrade again, but a small, hopeful part of him fell asleep to a fantasy about Lestrade falling in love with him.

***

The next day, Sherlock was waiting in Mycroft’s office after his meetings ended at ten in the morning. “Yes, brother?” Mycroft asked, sitting down and looking at him expectantly.

“Why are you in love with Lestrade?” Sherlock demanded, his eyes narrowed.

“I beg your pardon?” Mycroft kept his face as straight as possible, biting the inside of his cheek to distract him from the embarrassment that was welling up inside.

“He said that you thanked him. He called you ‘friendly’. You must be in love with him.”

Mycroft rolled his eyes. “I am not you, Sherlock. I do not try be rude to people who are only trying to be helpful.”

“Yes you do.”

“Only when it serves my purposes. Being rude to Detective Inspector Lestrade does not suit my purposes.”

“Your purposes of being in love with him.”

“Is that the reason for your visit, Sherlock?” Deflect, deflect, Mycroft told himself, starting to panic.

“Why did you have your people pull me out last night? I was getting some good information from them.”

“Sherlock, one of them had a knife to your throat.”

“And he was telling me everything because he thought I was going to die.”

Mycroft steepled his fingers and looked at Sherlock thoughtfully. His eyes were bright and he seemed excited. The last time he had seen Sherlock so upbeat, it had been because of drugs. He knew that Sherlock was clean now. He would never have admitted it to Sherlock, but he liked seeing this side of his brother, elated by the pursuit of knowledge instead of a high. He hadn’t seen it in many years and it was refreshing to see.

“I think it would be unwise to continue this association with Detective Inspector Lestrade. It’s clearly far too dangerous.”

Sherlock hurled some insults and Mycroft and then stormed out of the office. Mycroft smiled as he returned to work, sure that Lestrade would be involved with Sherlock for many years to come.

***

It was only a few weeks before necessity demanded that Mycroft and Lestrade meet. Mycroft paid a visit to Lestrade in his office. The office was much smaller and more cluttered than Mycroft’s, but he liked it. It fit Lestrade, just as Mycroft’s office fit him.

Mycroft was waiting in a chair when Lestrade came in. “DI Lestrade,” he said, holding out his hand to shake. “You must be Mister Holmes. I’ve heard much about you.” His eyes twinkled as he said that and Mycroft was glad he was sitting, so his knees couldn’t go weak on him.

Mycroft shook his hand with a small smile. “Ah, yes, I’m sure Sherlock has mentioned me. Only in the most flattering ways, of course.”

“You might say that.” Lestrade chuckled quietly as he took his seat, flashing a bright smile at Mycroft. “So, to what do I owe the pleasure, Mister Holmes?”

“Mycroft, please,” Mycroft said, working hard to ensure that his demeanor did not betray any of his feelings. “I am afraid that my work is overlapping with one of your cases.” He explained the particulars of the case, barely paying attention to what he was saying. Instead, he watched Lestrade’s reactions as he spoke. The man had a very expressive face and it was nice to see it when it wasn’t on blurry CCTV footage.

When they had finished discussing the case, Mycroft hesitated before continuing. “I would like to thank you for working with Sherlock. I know he isn’t the easiest man and you have helped him immensely.”

If Mycroft didn’t know better, he would have sworn that Lestrade blushed. “I like Sherlock. It can’t be easy being that brilliant, you know? Imagine having all those thoughts.”

Mycroft allowed himself a chuckle. “I hardly have to imagine, Detective Inspector.”

Lestrade cocked his head to the side and studied Mycroft for a moment. “I suppose you don’t. Imagine having those thoughts and no impulse control. Then you’d be Sherlock.”

Mycroft nodded. “Well, very few people handle my brother well. I appreciate that there is someone else who cares for him, someone he can stand to be around for any length of time.”

“You’re welcome. I’ll make sure to let you know if anything too mad happens.”

“Thank you again.” Mycroft stood and held out his hand. “It was nice to finally meet you, Detective Inspector.”

“Very nice,” Lestrade agreed, letting his hand linger a beat longer than was socially acceptable.

Mycroft left, wondering what it meant.

Later that day, Anthea handed him a folder with a strange smile in her face. It contained a transcript of a text conversation.

**Is your brother gay? —GL**

**How would I know that? —SH**

**Is he single? —GL**

**Boring and irrelevant. Do you have a case? —SH**

Mycroft stared at the paper in front of him, at the text asking if he was single. He thought back on their meeting and realized that there was a chance that Lestrade was actually interested in him. He had never thought that Lestrade could possibly develop any romantic feelings for Mycroft and now that it seemed likely, he didn’t know what to do. Should he call him? Ask him out? Find some contrived reason to meet again? Their business together had been resolved already, so he didn’t think that he could easily invent another reason to meet. He decided on waiting to do anything until the next time they met, however long that might be.

***

It was two long, tortuous months before they met again. During those two months, Mycroft considered calling Lestrade and asking him out, but he really didn’t want to seem too eager. He watched Lestrade as often as possible on the CCTV cameras. He realized that might come across as creepy, but he just couldn’t help himself. It was his only vice and he spent most of his time eagerly anticipating the next time he could see Lestrade on the camera.

When they finally met, Mycroft had gone to see Sherlock at a crime scene when he had been injured particularly badly. After being shouted at for a few minutes by his frenetic brother, he strolled over to see Lestrade, who was talking to a woman with curly hair.

“Good evening, Detective Inspector,” Mycroft said amiably, wishing the woman would leave.

“Please, call me Greg,” Lestrade said, waving his hand so the woman walked away. “It’s very nice to see you again, Mister Holmes.”\

“Mycroft, please. Yes, this is quite a nice surprise.”

“Nice?” Lestrade asked curiously, meeting Mycroft’s eyes with a slight smile.

“Oh yes. Sherlock is fine, of course. And it’s always a pleasure to see you.”

“Is it? I bet you say that to all the detective inspectors.” Either the darkness of the night was playing tricks on him or Lestrade had just let his gaze trail down to Mycroft’s lips and then back up to his eyes.

Mycroft’s brain seemed to short circuit. He had barely entertained the idea that Lestrade might find him attractive, let alone be interested in pursuing him. The short circuit soon gave way to wondering what Lestrade’s lips would taste like and then wondering what his body would taste like.

“Mm?” he asked as he realized that Lestrade had been saying his name.

“You seemed distracted for a minute,” Lestrade said with a wicked grin.

Mycroft intended a noncommittal response, but what came out was, “Would you like to go out to dinner with me sometime?” He knew he had his normal, cool demeanor, but inside he was screaming, wondering what on Earth had caused him to say something like that.

Lestrade’s face split into a wide grin. “I’d love to go on a date with you, Mycroft. That sounds fantastic.”

Mycroft felt a stab of panic, which he pushed down, smiling at Lestrade. “Very good. I will call you with the details.”

***

Mycroft stared at his reflection in the mirror, chewing his bottom lip. He had never been fully satisfied with his appearance. The number of times he had actually wanted to look attractive in his life had been few, and he didn’t know how to make himself more attractive. He had enlisted the help of Anthea, who picked out his most flattering suit and gave him some date tips, but he wasn’t sure they would help. It was slightly embarrassing to be going on his first ever date in his 40s, but dating had never interested him. His romantic history involved a series of sexual partners who were merely convenient. No one had ever interested him for a more traditional arrangement, so he had never bothered to make himself attractive.

After deciding to go on a diet tomorrow, he put the finishing touches on his appearance and headed out to pick Lestrade up. He arrived precisely on time and knocked on the door to Lestrade’s flat, feeling more nervous than he could ever remember.  
Lestrade opened the door, looking very suave. He was wearing what Mycroft assumed was his only suit and he looked fantastic. Mycroft wondered how he could look so good in such cheap fabric while Mycroft looked barely passable in the finest bespoke suit money could buy.

Lestrade held a single rose out to Mycroft, smiling broadly. “Good evening,” he said. “You look wonderful.”

Mycroft blushed while he took the rose, hating himself for betraying his bashfulness. “Thank you. You look lovely, too.”

Once they were in the car, Mycroft didn’t know what to say. He avoided Lestrade’s eyes and tried to think of a topic of conversation.

“I’m assuming that you don’t date very often,” Lestrade said with another smile.

Mycroft shook his head ruefully. “Unfortunately, my schedule does not allow for much dating. My romantic interests have usually been matters of convenience.”

“Well, we’ll have to fix that, won’t we?”

Mycroft blushed again and looked out the window.

Lestrade was a wonderful conversationalist, Mycroft soon discovered. Once he became comfortable, Mycroft was able to speak very well on a number of subjects that seemed to interest Lestrade. Before Mycroft knew it, dinner was over and they were walking back to the car. Mycroft climbed in first and was happily surprised to see that Lestrade sat much closer to him for the ride back than he had for the ride to the restaurant.

Their legs were close together and when Lestrade noticed that Mycroft was looking at the distance between them, he scooted closer so that their thighs were touching. Mycroft looked up and caught Lestrade’s eyes, blushing again.

“It’s very cute when you do that, you know,” Lestrade said quietly.

“Do what?”

“Blush. I get the feeling that you’re not normally a man who blushes.”

Mycroft shook his head emphatically. “Absolutely not. I’m sure I’ve never done it before.”

“Well, I’m honored to be the first person to make you blush.”

Mycroft found himself resting his head briefly on Lestrade’s shoulder before straightening up. “Why haven’t you dated?” Lestrade asked suddenly, catching Mycroft slightly off guard.

Mycroft shrugged. “I have never had much of an interest in romantic entanglements. I have never had a shortage of sexual partners when I wanted one, but relationships have always seemed to cause more problems than I would like to have. My work takes up most of my time.”

“So you’ve had a lot of sexual partners?” Lestrade asked.

Mycroft paused. Perhaps he should have considered his wording more carefully when saying that. “Not very many. A handful over the last two decades. What about your past? We haven’t discussed it much.”

“I was married for twenty years. The divorce went through a year ago. She’s already remarried.” He didn’t seem upset by this information, he was simply supplying it.

“And beyond her?”

“Nothing. We were sixteen when we started dating. And my career takes up most of my time.”

Mycroft stared at him, shocked. Lestrade was far too gorgeous to have only had one partner in his life. “So you’ve never been with a man?”

Lestrade blushed. He was right, it was adorable, Mycroft thought with a smile. “That is correct.”

“Well, we’ll have to rectify that,” Mycroft said matter-of-factly as they pulled up outside Lestrade’s flat.

“Right now?” Lestrade asked, that wicked grin on his face again.

Mycroft realized how close they were sitting and how close Lestrade’s face was to him. “If you wish.”

Lestrade tilted his head slightly and leaned in for a kiss. Mycroft captured his lips and kissed back enthusiastically, cradling the back of Lestrade’s head in one hand. When he moved to pull away, Mycroft tightened his grip, not letting him get very far. He grabbed Lestrade’s bottom lip between his teeth, tugging on it gently. Lestrade chuckled and opened his mouth, allowing Mycroft’s tongue to explore it.

“Let’s go in and fix my inexperience,” Lestrade said quietly when Mycroft had finished with his mouth. He pulled away and took Mycroft’s hand, pulling him along until they reached the flat and then into the bedroom.

Once they were in the bedroom, Lestrade spun Mycroft around and kissed him before pushing him back onto the bed. He straddled him, leaning down for a long kiss. Mycroft smiled at him when he pulled away and then flipped them over so he was on top of Lestrade, pinning his hands over his head on the bed. By the amazed look on Lestrade’s face and the hardness pressing against him, Mycroft knew that he had made the right decision to show how strong he was under his suits.

Mycroft held Lestrade’s wrists with one hand and used his other hand to unbuckle his belt and start work on getting his pants off while kissing him. He may have been unsure of himself on the date, but the bedroom was one place where he was extremely sure of himself. His ability to read people had always extended to sex and he knew exactly what Lestrade needed.

Lestrade melted under Mycroft’s kiss, moaning in an extremely distracting way. When Mycroft managed to free Lestrade’s cock from his trousers and began stroking it, he threw his head back and let out a particularly sexy moan. Mycroft moaned in response, letting go of Lestrade momentarily to free his own erection. He let their cocks slide against each other, sending pleasure shooting through him.

One of Lestrade’s hands worked its way free and found Mycroft’s cock, stroking it fast and hard. Mycroft returned his attentions to Lestrade’s cock, starting out stroking slowly and building speed until he was matching Lestrade stroke for stroke.

“I—I won’t last,” Lestrade gasped out, burying his face in Mycroft’s neck.

“I shan’t either,” Mycroft responded, speeding his hand up a bit more. In a moment, Lestrade was coming all over Mycroft’s hand with a shout that brought Mycroft to his own climax.

When they had both stopped shuddering with pleasure, Lestrade pulled kicked his trousers off and pulled off his shirt while moving as little as possible before undressing Mycroft down to his pants. He crawled under the covers and pulled Mycroft with him, settling them into a very comfortable position for cuddling.

“I’ve never done this before,” Mycroft said, snuggling into Lestrade’s side. “I think I like it.”

“Good, because we’ll be doing this a lot,” Lestrade said sleepily.

“So I did well on my first date?”

“Mmm. The best.”

“Thank you Greg.”  Mycroft let himself drift to sleep, secure in Lestrade’s arms.


End file.
